PLEASANTON — Eric Wiste of Pittsburg stood in line for lunch Thursday wearing an orange tank top, suitable for the overbearing heat.

“I’m not looking for a hand out,” he said. “I’m looking for a hand up.”

Wiste is one of about 450 homeless veterans and family members hunkered down at the county fairgrounds for East Bay 2006, a four-day stop where participants will enjoy shelter, med-ical and dental attention, drug and alcohol counseling and legal services.

Wiste’s main goal is to get his driver’s license back.

“I need to get my license back,” said the 44-year old. “I got serious dental issues, much needed dental issues — I didn’t even know I can do that here. I got legal issues, child support issues I need to clear up.”

Veterans were bused in Thursday morning from all parts of the Bay Area. Though all had a different story to tell, they shared an appreciation for what Stand Down had to offer.

“I was taking care of my parents and I fell behind. I got a divorce and then drugs and then…,” said Wiste, as he made a hand motion that suggested a downward spiral.

Wiste’s friend, John Stevenson, who was homeless for 10 years, was a working carpenter until he became disabled.

“I’ve had things in my life where I’ve had to deal with feelings,” he said with a pause, “where I’ve made mistakes.”

The Stand Down organization first began in San Diego. There are an estimated 250,000 homeless veterans nationwide. East Bay Stand Down began in 1997, holding its first event two years later at Camp Parks in Dublin.

Before their arrival, veterans were advised that drugs and alcohol are not allowed. And if they leave during the event, they can’t come back.

“This is one of the biggest and one of the best,” said Bart Buechner, a Stand Down organizer. “I would attribute it to the leadership, just because it’s so comprehensive.”

Ron Hyde, a retired Alameda County judge, said 14 judges from the Bay Area will be on hand to clear up legal issues, which range from urinating in public to fighting to “sleeping in the wrong place.”

“On Thursday, they have their heads down, they’re shuffling,” he said. “When they leave Sunday morning, their heads are up.”

“They even get Semifreddi bread,” said Georgia Johnson. “They’re giving them the good stuff.”

As a first-time Stand Down volunteer, Johnson called the campaign “sobering.”

“I am a product of the Vietnam era,” said Johnson, who grew up in Castro Valley. “Our high school lost a lot of good young men. I feel it’s a population that has been ignored and under served. It doesn’t have to do with my politics or how I feel about the war. It’s just the least I can do.”

Large speakers blared songs from the 1960s, such as “Hey, Mr. Tambourine Man” by The Byrds. Newly-arrived veterans intermingled and some were seen marching in unison.

“It’s kind of a cadence,” Johnson said. “It takes them back to a time when they were a family.”

Rob Keim of Sunnyvale was one of several chaplains on hand to provide spiritual advice.

“It doesn’t mean just sitting there and praying with other people,” said Keim, who is studying to be a pastor. “It can be a lot of other things. Reflective listening can be spiritual. Allowing someone to tell his life story, especially if it’s traumatic, can be spiritual. You’re there really to complement what they already believe. You’re not trying to change their beliefs.”

Also available were medical and dental services, which assist veterans with an assortment of problems, big and small.

“Some come in with big abscesses,” said volunteer Sue Kuehn. “The reason teeth are so important is that their smile gives them confidence when they are trying to get employment.”

There are 22 people to a tent with one tent leader as a monitor.

“I came back from Korea in 1950 and it was totally different than today’s world,” said volunteer Robert Terry, a tent leader. “I had a family to go to. I had a brother who picked me up when I landed. I had a job set up for me in Oakland. Today, people don’t seem to honor or respect veterans.”

Stand Down organizers have estimated 1,000 volunteers working this weekend’s event. Terry said if he ever were to become homeless, he’d hope for the same kind of attention.

“Veterans come back from combat and maybe they don’t have family,” he said. “If he comes back wounded, he might be S.O.L. — surely out of luck.”